Naughty Tea
by Shiro Anubis
Summary: Nothing is ever truly as it seems, nothing, and no one knew that better than he did. Hints of Alice/Hatter.


Hello, I've had this in my storage for a few years now. I edited it and messed with it a little, you can pm me to ask to adopt the idea, though that will not stop me writing a sequel if I ever wish to. I would really appreciate feedback. If there are typos I would appreciate them pointed out. Since this is a self-edit, I expect I comma spliced badly in a few spots though I have attempted to fix that.

**I do not own Alice in Wonderland that goes to Lewis Carroll and the movie version to Tim Burton.**

"_In heaven, all the interesting people are missing"_ -Friedrich Nietzsche

In a shadowy place where trees could be still in one moment and murderous the next. Where the shafts of light and shades of darkness met and clashed. Long, grey grass enshrouded the area and a mild fog hung in the air. It was as if wetland should have stood there. Yet no where could one find a more barren, dying place in all of eternity. The only sign of life was a dark run down old building that, at one point, could have been a windmill.

If one looked closely enough a table could be seen nearby. A shadow of perhaps a man sat on a stump at the table. Light shined down upon the table revealing a pale hand swathed in what once could have been a fingerless glove that looked as if it couldn't decide on being brown or white. A pristine white tea cup with a faded gold rim was leisurely held by this hand. The teacup was brought up to a dark face and quickly set back down upon the table and sugarcube was added to the tea moment later.

A frown could be faintly seen on the obscured face. One of contemplation and possibly a hint of amusement. The tea was stirred and left to sit once more.

'_tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...'_

Such a shame, he thought. Her world was fading from his realm. Even after all the effort he put into remembering it! All that remained now was the windmill where he had thrown many tea parties. That too, was fading away into the abyss of endless nothing.

Her world that had once held so much color was now barely more than shades of grey and the occasional bright light. Even this lovely little outfit she had so kindly gifted him with so long ago was disappearing. The bright silver pocket watch still worked though, and he knew it would until the very end, it liked him afterall.

Won't be much longer, he supposed. After all he's held her latest dream so carefully for 3 years now. He felt it was a record for him. Usually a persons madness only lasted in his memory for a few months before it simply became a passing fancy of a time he barely remembers. It was hard to forget a world as vibrant and dazzling as hers though. Even now he could remember almost every corner of the majestic land she had imagined. He hoped she would return and create it once more. A folly of a wish, he knew. She wouldn't come back to create anything of the sort, nor would she even recognize him when she did.

It was disappointing really, the way she was blind to all the hints he'd dropped for her. She didn't even have an inkling of what this place really was, or who _he _was. He almost didn't want her to find out. Unfortunately, almost didn't mean completely and he decided on nothing less than completely.

He lifted the teacup, took a sip, and grimaced. It was always so foul when he had to imagine the taste, he'd rather she did it for him. It always seemed to have a strange calming effect, sort of like a tranquilizer when she imagined it. He added another sugarcube, and stirred.

There were a lot of things that he knew and he even had three categories for them. Anything of the sort was filed under: certain, completely, and known. Those sort of things could range from great and terrible things to magnificent and wonderful things (things that even she, with her muchness, wouldn't quite be able to capture in her scope of life, not yet anyways).

He was certain that the sky she lived under was in desperate need of a paint job if it wanted to even come close to the majesty of her eyes. He was also certain that while animals did not talk to her in her world, they most certainly had the most interesting things to say to him. This did not surprise him, for who is to say that madness was an ailment of man alone (or for that matter, mortals)? He was very certain that she would be quite (arousingly) furious with him even she even had even a hint of his role in her father's demise.

He was completely aware how she thought of him, it was adorable really. Where she received the idea that innocence and madness could coexist in a single person he was _not _completely sure of, he suspected her father (given that his end of their little bargain did involve her). But he found it worked to his contrivances all the same. He was completely aware of what a magnificent creature she was when she wielded a sword, or any sort of weapon for that matter, he couldn't find it in himself to admit that sometimes it scared him because it reminded him of her true birthed purpose. Not that she knew of _that._

He knows that the world she saw and the world she lived in were two stunningly different realities (but all things have their own reality, he just found hers more stunning than the rest). He knows what Underland really is and just what she saw it as, he designed it that way (he loved her view of the world, it was gorgeous and crazy all in the same breath). He knows that he will never give her up to those feathered _idiots_ without first affirming that they would not break her beautiful perceptions of reality. He knows that if he were to take away her wings that the color would leave this land for eternity, and eternity was such a long time (even for him).

But above all, he completely, for certain, knows that she was a masterpiece that was created by no divine or unholy being, but by the very astral essence of the universe itself. Nothing less than death would keep him away. Though even death would struggle in that endeavor.

'_tick tock, . . . tick tock, . . . tick tock'_

She was such a delight with her oblivious nature. How she had failed to see what the land she visited truly was: the Realm of Madness. The realm of dreams, _his _realm. She wasn't even aware that she was in the presence of the most dangerous of the lords of hell (he was _not_ conceited, the logic behind his claim made perfect, psychotic sense) and in the first circle of hell. That fool Dante¹ had called his realm 'Limbo' because that is what he believed he saw when he visited here in his dreams (just because something is not believed does not mean the process is any different for the non-believer than for the "faithful" as all creatures are mocked equally by their creator²). He felt his domain shifting bit by bit, the light shafts were starting to disappear, and the edges of the trees appeared to be steaming as they began shifting to shadow once more.

His world of madness is whatever the brain of the onlooker perceived with a special exception to that damned grinning cat whom he only allowed to walk in his great realm because despite his many shortcomings he did want to help Alice in his own way (even if it was for his own amusement). Her first trip here was no accident of any kind, her father was an honorable man after all, he kept his end of the deal like any proper gentleman would. It was a fair trade really, he received a blessing of craze so that he may prosper in the absurd life of a businessman, and in return he was to send his first born to the land of madness during the unholy number of 6.

Being the thoughtful man he was he demanded that the future child be safe and come back unharmed. At the time the man thought her a boy, how amusing if he had known what _he _knew then he would never have made such a bargain. But alas amnesia can be such a cruel thing if the one stricken with it is valuable enough. He could do nothing but agree since he had no such machinations in his world anyways (but the foolish mortal didn't need to know that).

If there were any harmful things in his world it was the visitors own fears manifesting in some form and oh did they when she appeared, a red queen with such a large head and such a temper. Sometimes he let his more violent thoughts seize hold and wondered if her head would pop like a ripe cherry if he squeeze hard enough. Of course, he easily wiped the thought away as it had come upon him, didn't want to turn this graying world even darker with his more sinister side. He was as equally surprised with the white queen, he guessed she was her silly notions of all that is good in the world (even if he thought they were silly, he still wished them true, they were far better than what he saw in the rest of the world).

When she had fallen (oh the irony of that phrase could make a suit of armor for him) the first time he had to create a story for her to follow, to teach her a lesson she would use in life. But being that she was six it simply became another dream for her (how insulting, he was_ far_ too complicated to be a simple dream). So he left her alone to her world and waited for 2 more sixes to pass so that she would reach a truly unholy equation of an age³. Then he could achieve a semblance of control over his realm while she was in it(only she was even allowed any form of power in his lands, anyone else would become another puppet simply because he _hates_ sharing his sanctuary with anyone else, her being the special exception to mortals and immortals alike).

To his great surprise (and at first ire and then pride at what a woman she had the potential to be) _she _created her story when she fell the second time and for the first time in his long existence (he couldn't call it life for what is living when you cannot die?) _he _was a puppet, a pawn on the chessboard.

'_tick, . . .tock, . . . tick, . . . tock' _

It had scared him and thrilled him all in the same moment. Because if she could gain control in his realm as a mortal, what sort of power would she wield when she came into her heritage?

He had loved his role in her story, he had loved it so much that he had asked her stay so that he could continue to live in her mad crazy perception of his world, because it was beautiful and without out her there, the world would disappear and he would once more become the puppet master.

But she had left to tend to the world where she was born, and he had to return to being his true, divine self, and the beautiful whited sepulchre she had created of realm disappeared into memory once more.

But he knew, soon she would return, after her heritage had come to pass and she became a warrior angel of the heavens and he would take the brunt of her glorious fury because he had played games with the angels, and they (those self-righteous, pompous, disgusting, loathable...⁴) would fill her pretty head with lies of his character and never mention that he was her dear Hatter, she would think herself on a quest to vanquish a great evil when really she was destroying the mortal worlds prometheus (he couldn't help but find that thought rather arrogant but nothing in all of creation, and then some un-creations were perfect).

All he could do for now was sit and wait for her here because she wouldn't remember of him until after she had united with the sky-walkers. She would become an amazing angel, who would take the up the mantle he had been burned for. He knew because he had _seen_ it and one day she would understand him better than any of the Lords of Hell or Archangels of Heaven. If he is anything, he is patient. But even so, she always seemed to be late (a rather nasty habit he hoped would she would break one day).

That time was not now however, so he would simply prepare and hope she survived the tribulations to come. For if she did not, the very essence of life on all three realms would cease to have color.

He twisted his faded features into a pout. He was rather fond of the form she had given him, it was the closest to his true form anyone has ever gotten. He very much missed that hat as well, even if the role he was forced to play was the only reason he liked it. He was able to keep a good part of the rest of the ensemble, but the hat was missing and he felt wrong. He blamed the bloody cat, he did seem to have a strange fascination with it after all, probably stole it and returned to his realm, he'd have to drop by there sometime and get it back.

Strange, he rarely ever felt sentimental (excluding the few stints of other upper worlders who he was positively certain were as mad as he). He supposed that only she could make him feel such an emotion even in a world where only he truly and the poor souls who ended up driven mad here existed.

Maybe he should visit her world, it had been some time since he'd visited the mortal plane, he had a feeling that a lot had changed up there. Nothing he'd be surprised by though fortunately, being the former Angel of Knowledge had to have its perk sometimes (though having the flesh and feathers of his wings burned away because he stole the secrets of a self-righteous god was one hell of a sacrifice to make for infinite knowledge).

The clock was slowing though, and going to mortal lands would be pointless when it did, because he would not find her there no matter where he looked. Not a pretty hair on her head would be found. He was fine with that, it wouldn't be much longer anyways.

'_tick, . . . . tock, . . . . tick . . . . '_

It was inevitable after all, as they had tried to make her father do, they would force her to do the same thing. His beautiful lady would try to kill him, and she would succeed. He would ensure that, because if she did not, they would kill her. He lifted the tea once more to his lips and took a sip, and promptly spit it out. He sputtered, his face turned pink, and opened his mouth to scold the teacup for forcing him to drink such disgusting filth, and stopped. The clock had stopped, and slowly a grin worked its way onto his face and got bigger and bigger and sharp yellow teeth peaked out behind the impossibly wide grin. All but a single shaft of light was gone and under it sat a disappearing tea set and table. His fingers became sharp with bright green claws just as the last of the light was devoured.

"Happy 21st Birthday, my dear _sweet_ Alice, and may the angels treat you _well_" the last word was like the tea was to his tongue, foul. His shoulders shook as if holding back a sob, then came the laughter, it came out as a snort and transformed into a giggle and quickly, a howling laughter that continued on and on into the abyss

Then, all was black.

Footnotes for the confused and wary:

1. "Dante's Inferno" is the first part of an epic poem called Divine Comedy written in the 14th century, he believed that the very first "circle of hell" was limbo the place where the unbaptized and virtuous pagans who did not accept christ went. It is said in this poem to be a meadow of sorts and basically a "taste of heaven".

Long story short: It's a place where they taunt those who do not believe in christ with a deficient paradise.

2. This is a character this story is not in any way intended to offend devout or whatever you call yourself religious person. PLEASE do not lecture me because I choose to utilize a god in a negative light, not everyone is as accepting of a divine being as others. Thanks, sorry If I do offend, again it isn't my intention.

3. It's a little math joke if you didn't catch it: she came to Wonderland at age 6, he waited 2 more sixes so he'd get a rather unholy age of 3 sixes 6+ 6+ 6 =18 that's when she sees him next. It is also a hint, if you figure it out, kudos to you, it'll explain a few things.

4. Even if he isn't quite the hatter in this story he is still very much mad. I intend to sow as much of that wonderful character into him as I can, it will just have a few dark twists and such and help along the story.

NOTE: This is a one-shot which, at my leisure, will get sequels and such. If I call something a short-story expect 2-6 chapters, but since this is a one-shot it just has one :)

P.S This story was more of a contemplation than anything else, if I* write something with actual interactions and movement and such, beleive me, it will be **much **longer.

Thanks!

-Shiro Anubis


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